


A Meditation on Children

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Children, Drabble Collection, Gen, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which various SPN characters think about their children, real or hypothetical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Meditation on Children

1.  
Dean doesn’t just screw every chick that smiles at him. Yeah, he likes to feel good, and he likes to make women feel good, too—watching them flush and shudder and moan, thinking, I did that. But ever since that summer in Shreveport—busted condom and two weeks of sleepless nights listening to Sammy breathe through his nose—Dean would just as soon a girl blow him ‘til he sees stars than go all the way. When he does knock boots, Dean’s careful, but he figures careful has never stopped life from handing a shit deal to a Winchester before. 

2.  
The day John realizes he’ll likely never have grandkids, they’re pulling out of another nothing town surrounded by acres and acres of dying corn. 

Sam’s teasing Dean about last night’s waitress, laughing like he’ll die when Dean says, “I don’t know, Sammy. I wasn’t looking at her nametag.” 

“You couldn’t be bothered to learn her name, son?” 

“Rule #4, Dad. Don’t go filling your head with shit you don’t need. Remember what’s important and chuck the rest.” Dean’s not embarrassed when he says this and John feels an ache deep in his gut all the way to the state line. 

3.  
Bobby never wanted kids. Not when he was dating Melody, back before he burned his first set of bones. Not when his mama would mourn the family name. And not even when Bill showed off crumpled Polaroids of a Kool-Aid stained Jo, pigtails frizzed out in a whirlwind around her head. So how he ends up here—making piles of books Sam might need with him on the job, keeping that piss-sour beer Dean likes in the second fridge out back, tamping down the fear he feels when his cell wakes him from a sound sleep—he has no idea.

4.  
They were his children, not in any way that John Winchester would understand, but his nonetheless. They were made of him, but also their own—pieces of himself arranged in ways that often pleasantly surprised him and occasionally irritated him. He remembers hating forcing them to clothe themselves in human flesh, all that power, all that beautiful rage, crammed into forms unworthy of the honor. He wanted for them what all parents want, continued existence and some measure of happiness. Now that they are gone, he will settle for making certain that no Winchester ever has those things for himself.


End file.
